


It’s a Detached Relationship

by Anonymous



Category: Chainsaw Man (Manga)
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Forced Submission, Hurt No Comfort, One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Relationship, Rape/Non-con Elements, That's it, allusions to Kishibe's one-sided feelings for Quanxi are made, downer ending, makima routinely domming kishibe against his will, that's the whole fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:27:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27167905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: A look at Makima and Kishibe’s rather twisted rivalry over the years.
Relationships: Makima/Kishibe (Chainsaw Man)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31
Collections: Anonymous





	It’s a Detached Relationship

**Author's Note:**

> anyone else out there feeling this hateship or is it just me

Kishibe can taste alcohol, and something quite inhuman on his lips. He can feel the glare coming off the pair of eyes locked between his legs, sizing him up in more ways than one. “I must say, this is disappointing, Kishibe.”

The eyes don’t change, but the tone does. It’s enough to put him on edge.

“Honestly, aren’t you ashamed? A man of your age ought to be in his sexual prime. And yet, here you are…” Smooth fingers inch closer up his thigh, but it’s nothing to write home about. He’s 20 years too late to start getting excited by this shit. “Sporting a rather damning case of whiskey dick tonight, aren’t we?”

Black eyes narrow. He doesn't need to make a defense. Not to _her_ , of all people—

“Allow me to make one thing clear. I assure you, that has less to do with the alcohol, and everything to do with the one doing the touching.”

Nails.

So,

She didn’t like that.

“Get hard.”

It’s a command his body can’t resist, no matter how old, tired or angry he might be. Memories of false, forced pleasure flash through Kishibe’s mind, playing on sick repeat. How long had this arrangement been going on?

…And how long had it been since he’d stopped counting?

It didn’t matter, ultimately. He’d been made intimately aware of that as Makima sank down on him again, and Kishibe could only thrust and grunt in kind. It didn’t matter how badly he wanted to finish, how badly he wanted to be doing this with someone else instead, how badly he wanted to not be doing this at all.

It only mattered, that he could let it slide.

So long as She was on their side.

\- -

The tongue invading his mouth tasted surprisingly sweet, contrary to the vile pair of lips it was attached to. Kishibe reciprocated the kiss, deepening it, because it was the only thing he could do. He tried not to think about it.

Yet he found himself dreaming of silver hair and a dull sense of pain, nonetheless.

“You’re hopeless at hiding it,” Makima smirked, the smile fading along with the sharpening glint in her eye.

“That so? Blame it on my age. I’m getting old.”

Kishibe shrugged, praying his slumped shoulders could feign indifference better than he could. Makima traced the contours of his jaw, made no less rugged with age. Her fingers danced among the stubble, firm yet tired lines of the skin she found there. Humans were different. Delicate, vulnerable creatures. She knew she had to be some level of gentle, yet she found her fingers digging in all the same. Nails raking, searching for something not quite in sight.

Leaning down, Makima grinned at the hold she had on Kishibe’s lower lip.

She bit down, softly, a mixture of want, curiosity, and desire —

To do it, simply because She could.

“Cry.”

Even she didn’t know why she’d said it, but as soon as Kishibe’s dark eyes began to water, filling up with invisible, unwanted tears, Makima found herself not regretting the command. “Ufufufu. Not much of a Mad Dog now, are you?”

Kishibe sat up with a start, as if he could stand every other insult, _except_ that. Brows furrowed and eyes still filled to the brim with tears, he threw his head back and slammed full-force, straight into Makima’s forehead. She didn’t even blink.

He felt around for the source of the wet spot, finding only blood instead. With his own head ringing and Makima perfectly unperturbed, Kishibe could only conclude his little stunt hadn’t been entirely worth it. Still, the thought he’d managed to cause Makima any sort of discomfort offered him some hope, after all.

“My, my. Such a silly boy.”

Makima cooed, making the last of Kishibe’s frayed nerves stand on end. He could only breathe, low and still as Makima wrapped her arms around him, hands cradled in his hair, holding his bloodied head close to her chest. “There, now. Isn't that better? You’ve had a tough time of it, haven’t you? I know you, Kishibe. You can hate me all you like, but you can’t hide it. I know you’ve always tried your best.”

And something snapped, like a fundamental screw coming loose.

Cradled in the arms of the thing he hated most, Kishibe cried.

Later, he could blame it on Makima and her commands all he liked—

But for now, He knew.

These were his tears, and his tears alone.

\- -

Makima laughed at the slight stinging sensation of stubble grazing against the inside of her thighs. It was a hollow, empty sound, and she wasn’t entirely sure exactly how much of her joy was being derived from the act itself—It was just so _funny_ , seeing Kishibe glaring up at her like that, face hopelessly buried between her arched legs. In retrospect, she thought the Collar might have been a bit much, but it suited him just fine.

A dog is all he was, and a dog is all he would be.

“Isn’t that right?”

And Kishibe, who all but rejected the unknown, nodded along anyway.

Just like a good, mad dog should.

\- -

“Makima,”

He spat her name out like the curse it was, tasting vile and dirty on his tongue.

She smiled down at her most reliable toy, never failing to offer up some cheap form of entertainment. “After all this time, you’re the only one left who still resists me. Now, I wonder, just _why_ is that?”

Her piercing, hypnotic eyes stared holes, staring straight through him, right down to those deep, murky depths he didn’t want anyone else to see—And he was about as desensitized to Makima as one could possibly be, and still—For one god awful, awe-inspiring moment, Kishibe forgot how to breathe. “Well? I do believe I asked you a question, Captain Kishibe.”

Of course, she only ever used his full title to humiliate him now. His back arched slightly at the expectation in her voice. Even if his mouth refused to co-operate kindly, his body was more than eager to please. Makima allowed an unsightly rush of pride to flow through her—She’d taught him well, after all.

He’d keep on giving her what she wanted, regardless of whether or not he wanted this at all.

Funny, how his feelings on the matter, really didn’t matter at all.


End file.
